'oV 






^0-^^^ .-. VV--4V ^'^'^■ 






^J^^ * = « o ^ ^"^ 






,0^ \. 



\ /'^ /SS\ "^^x^*" .'>v^r, \. ^/' ;#ii^' 






% 






4 O 



:.^' 






.V 



^^^ 



^#:^ ^' 



'*v 



^1d. 



^0 



s^ 



<^ 



<^ 



.x^ _ - - -^ 



0' 






m 



iriiaiSTiSL^CiiR 




WILLIAM^ J: LAMPTON 





A Corner of the Green at New Haven 



THE TROLLEY CAR 
AND THE LADY 



A Trolley Trip from 
' Manhattan to Maine 



WILLIAM J. LAMPTON 

With photographs by the author 




BOSTON 
RICHARD G. BADGER 

The Gorham Press 
1908 



Copyright, 1908, by William J. Lampton 
All rights reserved 



UORARY of CONGRESS 
i wo (i^oDies neceivee 

AUG 3 li^^a 

OLASS/A AXfo Nw. 
OOFY B. 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 



MERELY A SUGGESTION 

If the reader of this short tale has never 
ridden by trolley from Manhattan to Maine 
he should take half a dozen days off some 
time during the Summer months and do so. 
It will prove a revelation and a revel to him 
from start to finish. It is travel through the 
history and beauty of New England side by 
side with the descendants of those who made 
its history, and are still maintaining its beauty. 
Untroubled, as was the hero of this little 
story, he may turn his mind to the con- 
templation of the scenes spread about him 
everywhere and enjoy his environments as 
he could not in any other way. He may 
tire a little, but rest is easy and inexpensive 
and sleep is sweet. Truly the trolley is a 
triumph of travel which transports the 
traveller. 

W. J. L. 




Inclined Railway, Mt. Tom 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

A Corner of the Green at New Haven, Frontispiece 

Page 

Inclined Railway, Mt. Tom 8 

A New Rochelle Avenue 1 1 

Where Little Yachts at Larchmont, loaf 13 

By the Shore of the Sound 15 

A Connecticut Venice (Westport) 17 

Waiting for a Car at Bridgeport, Conn. 19 
West Rock, New Haven, from the Trolley .21 

An Old-Time New England Church 23 

The Car that was Emptied at Cheshire ... 25 

The State Capitol at Hartford, Conn 29 

Tobacco Fields and Barns in the Connec- 
ticut Valley 31 

Along the River Ware 33 

Among the Hills of Ware 35 

Savings Bank, Leicester 36 

Hard Farming in Massachusetts 39 

Colonial House in Leicester 41 

Congregational Church, Leicester, Mass. .42 

City Hall Park, Worcester 45 

The Bridge at Concord 49 

Where the Trolley takes to the Woods 51 

Down the Merrimac, from Lowell, Mass. . 53 
A Passing Glimpse of Paradise 55 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

A Yankee House of Other Days 57 

A New Hampshire Farmhouse and Grove . 59 

Boar's Head Promontory 61 

Looking into Maine from Portsmouth, 

N. H 65 

Stranded. Near Kittery, Maine 67 

Old House, Kittery, Me. Built 1798 69 

A Maine Blacksmith Shop in the Shade 

of the Church 72 

Old Fort and Citadel at Kittery, Me 75 

A Maine Well by the Trolley Track, 

Kittery, Me 79 

A Little Maine Cottage 83 




'A New Rochelle Avenue 

THE TROLLEY CAR 
AND THE LADY 



I HAD returned that day to New York 
after an absence of three years on the 
other side and had been carried off bodily 
to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Winston. 

When Mrs. Winston had ' kissed me 
a dozen or more times — I seldom keep 
exact count of such feminine trifles — she 
turned upon me reproachfully. 
II 



The Start 
New York 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

"Why, oh, why, did you ever come home 
to-day?" she cried in a wail of despair. 

"Did n't you want to see me?" I repHed 
a bit resentfully. She kissed me again. I 
may explain that Mrs. Winston is my sister. 

"Yes, yes, Ned dear, but why did n't you 
come yesterday, or the day before, or any 
day sooner than this one?" 

"What's the matter with to-day?" I in- 
sisted upon knowing. *'Any day is good 
enough that brings me back to New York, 
isn't it? I'm here three months sooner 
than I expected to be, and glad of it." 

"Yes, yes, I know," she kept on semi- 
hysterically, "but this very morning at eight 
o'clock, Clara left with a party of friends on 
a trolley trip to Maine. There were Mr. 
and Mrs. Loring and Mr. and Mrs. Gray, 
and Jack Dean was going as escort for Clara, 
but at the last moment he was detained. 
He hopes to join them later." 

"Oh, does he?" I snapped in, grasping 
the situation promptly, for this same Clara 
was a charming young woman whose praises 
my sister had been singing to me by mail 
for a year. I hold in high esteem one 
woman's good opinion of another, even 

12 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




Where Little Yachts at Larchmont loaf 



though it be prejudiced, and I had begun 
to dream dreams of the unseen Clara. Being 
an unpledged bachelor these dreams were 
perfectly allowable, because even if they 
came true the only person, who had a right 
to complain, was the object of them. "Oh, 
does he.? Well, we'll see about that. I 
don't know who he is or what his purpose 
is, and of course, I can't stop his going, 
but I can be there to see that my interests 
are not neglected." 

"But how.?" asked Mrs. Winston, bright- 
ening at once and encouraging me. 

"I'll go after them, that's how. I know 

13 



The Trolley Car ajid the Lady 

something about the route and I'll follow." 

"But they have a whole day's start of you 
and you can't trolley by night. Trolleys 
don't run all night." 

"And I don't chase trolleys on trolleys. 

I'll take a steam train and jump into New 

Haven at. once. This is not pleasure; it's 

business." 

Mrs. Winston clapped her hands joyously. 

"How bright you are, Ned," she com- 
mended. "I never thought of the steam 
cars." 

"You never thought of Clara as I do, 
either," I explained. 

She looked at me earnestly. " Really, 
Ned.^" she questioned. 

"Sure, Sis," I replied. "I don't know 
what she'll be like when I meet her face to 
face — heart to heart, I may say — but I'm 
heels over head in love with the ideal I have 
constructed out of the material you have 
furnished." 

Mrs. Winston kissed me with a rapturous 
impulse. 

"Oh, Ned," she exclaimed, "I am so 
glad." 

There was apparently no substantial rea- 

14 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




By the Shore of the Sound 

son why she should be so glad, but women 
have sorrow enough in this vale of tears, 
and when they are glad it is no more than 
charity not to ask for reasons. 

"When will you start?" she added after 
a moment's further contemplation of me, as 
if I had a perspective which suggested dreamy 
distance. 

"Tell me what you know of their plans of 
travel and I'll tell you my plans of action." 

"Let me see," she began very carefully in 
order to be sure in a matter of such import- 
ance; "they expected to stop and see some 
friends at Larchmont and go for a short sail 

15 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

on the Sound. Then on to Stamford — no, 
Bridgeport — let me see, which one comes 
first ? Bridgeport or Stamford ? Well, 
whichever it is, they were going to stop there 
with friends and go on to New Haven next 
day. That would be to-morrow, would n't 
it.?" 

As I did n't see that it could be anything 
else without a violent wrench to the almanac, 
I admitted that it would be, and said there 
was plenty of time for me to leave in the 
morning and be in New Haven when the 
party arrived there. What they would do 
between New York and New Haven did not 
interest me and I did not agitate Mrs. Win- 
ston further by asking her to decide whether 
Stamford or Bridgeport would be the night^s 
stop-over. 

She concluded, after consulting the time 
tables in several newspapers for verification, 
that it would not be necessary for me to start 
at once to reach New Haven by noon next 
day and accepted my plans as perfect. Her 
supply of exact information was small be- 
cause the members of the party did not know 
themselves what they would do. It was to 
be a go-as-you-please and stop-as-you-please 
i6 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




A Connecticut Venice (Westport) 

affair, and Clara was to write only what they 
had done. No one could say what was to 
be done until after the accompHshment. I 
knew none of the party, and the clews Mrs. 
Winston gave me were femininely indefinite. 
I did not bother about that, however, as I 
thought it would be a simple matter to con- 
sult the hotel register at the best hotel in 
New Haven and send up my card. I had 
a lot of other things to talk about after my 
long absence, and I changed the subject. 
Still at intervals Mrs. Winston would look 
perspectively at me and say vaguelv "Oh, 
Ned, I am so glad." 

17 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

Next morning at eight o'clock, accom- 
panied by a camera, an umbrella and a con- 
venient hand-bag, I started on my little 
journey to New Haven. I had also a full 
supply of confidence. I went prepared to 
become the sixth member of the trolley party 
to Maine and if Mr. Jack Dean so desired, 
he might be tagged on as the seventh, at some 
other point. New Haven for me. Pro- 
crastination gathers no girl. The final words 
of my sister to me at the station were: ''Oh, 
Ned, I am so glad." I asked her if she were 
glad because I was going away again so soon, 
but she made no reply other than that long 
perspective look, and she was very serious 
for a glad person. 

There was nothing of interest on the way 
to New Haven and still less there, for the 
trolleyers had not arrived. I examined all 
the hotel registers and interviewed a dozen 
trolley conductors. Evidently they had 
stopped for the day somewhere with the 
intention of coming on to New Haven in 
the early evening. It would be pleasanter 
for me to trolley into town with them than 
to wait for them. But where were they — 
Stamford or Bridgeport ? I had neglected 

i5 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 



^^mm 



Waiting for a Car at Bridgeport, Conn. 

to get details from Mrs. Winston. I tele- 
graphed her for quick answer. I got it in 
an hour — " At the Terry Pophams in Bridge- 
port. Good luck to you." It is only about 
half an hour's run to Bridgeport and I was Bridgeport 
there in ample time for a trolley back. The 
Terry-Pophams informed me that the party 
had been there about eleven o'clock, having 
changed their plans and remained over night 
at Stamford. They had stopped to luncheon Stamford 
and gone on to New Haven immediately. 

This was dispiriting, but I knew they were 
to stop one day at least in New Haven and 
I would be sure to find them there in the 

19 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

evening. For change of scene I returned 
to New Haven by trolley. It was rather 
lonely, but the salt air from the Sound was 
exhilarating and I was hopeful, so the trip 
was not without some recompense. My 
camera was company in a way, and I had a 
pocketful of cigars. Even alone on a trolley 
car is not always the saddest lot imaginable. 

But they were not discoverable at any 
hotel in New Haven, and I haunted the corner 
where the Bridgeport cars stop. It is near the 
famous Green and the elms are grand there, 
but they meant nothing to me. Five people 
— two men and three women, the youngest 
woman in a blue serge dress with a camera 
strapped across her shoulder ^ — was what I 
wanted to see. That was the nearest de- 
scription my sister could give me. I had an 
old photograph of a girl in evening dress, 
but that was no clew to a girl in traveling 
attire. 

"What did the young lady look like?" 
asked one conductor whom I put on the 
witness stand. He was a good-looking chap 
who was not ignorant of his personal pul- 
chritude. From what I know of handsome 
men, I am pretty sure, if I had the fatal gift 

20 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




West Rock, New Haven, from the Trolley 



of beauty I should ignore it, at least, in 
public. 

"What business is that of yours ?" I came 
back at him snobbily. 

"None," he grinned, "but may be yours. 
A young lady in a gray suit got oflF my car 
at six o'clock, and asked where a hotel was. 
She came from New York, she said." 

I begged his pardon, gave him a cigar, asked 
him a dozen questions and hurried oflF to the 
hotel he designated. No Clara was there nor 
at any other hotel. She would not have been 
alone in any event, but I had reached the 
point where I was clutching at straws. 

21 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

I telegraphed Mrs. Winston for informa- 
tion. The reply came at eleven o'clock 
and it was not assuringly definite — "Out 
to dinner. If not at hotel try Allison's 
or Frazier's." Allison's or Frazier's not 
being places of public resort, as one might 
conclude from the sound, I looked up a 
directory and found four Allisons and three 
Fraziers who seemed to be possible. I made 
a note of their addresses and went to bed. 
There was no other place I could go. Tired 
nature's sweet restorer did n't do much that 
night, and I awoke early and uncomfortable. 
By the time I had visited two Allisons and 
two Fraziers it was half past nine o'clock. 
At the third Allisons I found a maid who 
said the party had come there the night 
before, but as the Allisons were away, they 
had gone to the Fraziers in another street. 
She was kind enough to give me the address, 
but when I reached the house they had been 
gone an hour. 

New Haven is quite interesting to the 
visitor, but not so by reason of physical 
dimensions and I thought my people could 
be easily picked up at some point or other 
where strangers congregate. Hopefully, 

22 





m 



iU 



An Old-Time New England Church 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

therefore, I set forth on my quest. It was 
feverish at first; then calmer; next dogged; 
and, at last, despairing. The City of Elms 
lost its charms for me by noon. Yale Col- 
lege became an institution for the feeble 
minded; its campus was a wilderness; the 
Green was a desert, and I sat on a bench 
under the great elms like Marius among the 
ruins of Carthage. The ruins about me 
were not so tangible as his, but they were 
none the less real and disagreeable. 

At I P.M., having visited every place of 
interest and seen never a one of them, so 
absorbed was I in matters of greater moment, 
I determined to go on to Hartford. I felt 
sorely a need of change. My search had 
now assumed serious proportions and I went 
to a book-shop for a Trolley Guide containing 
the minutest particulars. I felt like calling 
in a private detective, but refrained. One 
does n't care to put a detective on the track 
of his ideal. It is, at least, not a compli- 
ment to her. The only ray of sunshine on 
the whole dolorous landscape was the thought 
that Mr. Jack Dean w^ould have no better 
luck than my own. I hoped so at any rate, 
though the possibility that he had a detailed 

24 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




The Car that was Emptied at Cheshire 

itinerary was a small spider in my otherwise 
comforting pie — to mix metaphors some- 
what. 

Uncertain of mind about leaving New 
Haven, though I had taken my place in the 
car for Cheshire, I asked the car-starter if 
he had seen a party of five people going in 
my direction. 

He looked me over curiously and half 
smiled. "Good looking girl in a blue dress 
with a snap-shooter over her shoulder?" he 
inquired. 

Something in my manner must have be- 
trayed me, but I did not admit it to him, 

25 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 



Cheshire 



Hartford 



though I could feel that I had his sympathy. 
I merely nodded, and he said he had been 
such a party, but did not remember how 
long ago it was. He remembered the party 
because the young lady had thanked him for 
answering her questions. Everybody did n't 
do that, he said. 

The ride to Cheshire out of beautiful Main 
street, broidered with elms and Rock-walled 
against the distant sky, is a perfect string 
of pearls even to the mind distraught, and I 
was simply compelled to enjoy it all the way. 
I felt comparaively restored at the end of 
the ride, but my old trouble returned when 
I learned that the trolley stopped there, and 
I must go on by train or carriage for four 
or five miles. I chose the latter to Milldale for 
diversion's sake, and was glad, because I dis- 
covered they had done the same. I stopped 
along the way to pluck a pretty wild flower, 
but it was withered and dry when I reached 
Hartford, though the ride had been through 
a smiling land. I threw it away because it 
depressed me, though I am not usually super- 
stitious. Indeed the journey had quite an- 
imated me and I started for the nearest hotel 
register with a Springtime lightness of foot. 
26 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

My luck was turning. Their names were 
there. They had registered and lunched at 
one o'clock. 

"What time did they say they would be 
back V I asked of the clerk with a confidence 
that was almost enthusiasm. He had an- 
swered previous questions so much to my 
liking that I had given him a cigar and would 
have given him a house and lot if he had 
requested it. 

"They are not coming back," he said and 
my heart dropped so that I could feel it 
throbbing against my diaphragm. "They 
are goi* g to Springfield." 

"When.^" I gasped. It was then after 
four o'clock. 

"They did n't say, but they were going to 
see the capitol and take a drive through 
Forest Street before leaving." 

Possibly at this very moment they were 
taking a car for Springfield, and without so 
much as thanking the polite clerk, I ran 
away like a demented person. Hartford 
possesses many objects of interest and beauty 
for the wayfarer from the world outside, but 
all it had for me was going out of it on a 
trolley car, and my chief purpose in life was 
27 



Enfield 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

to catch that car. I ran regardless of dig- 
nity. A block away I saw five people, two 
men and three women, one of the women in 
a dark blue dress. They were boarding a 
car with '* Springfield" in large letters across 
the tail-board. It started and I spurted 
after it. Vain spurt. Blasted hopes. 
Blasted car. 
Windsor gu^ ^yhy harrow the listener with this tale 
of woe .^ Nobody on foot, or on the wings 
of love, can catch a modern long distance 
trolley car with two hundred yards start and 
I missed it. My dejection was so apparent 
when I pulled up puffing at the point from 
which the car had gone that no one about 
was heartless enough to laugh at me. I am 
not naturally of belligerent temper, but I 
think I would have hit anybody, except an 
old woman, who had manifested the slight- 
est satisfaction at my disappointment There 
was half an hour to wait, and I resolved to 
drown my sorrows in the usual masculine 
manner. The fatal spot was convenient 
and presently I was contemplating a good 
long high-ball. If one high-ball will drown 
a certain number of sorrows, two should 
drown twice as many, and I took two. Just 
28 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




The State Capitol at Hartford, Conn. 



how many sorrows remained undrowned 
when the next Springfield car came along I 
had no statistics to prove, but the burden 
of my afflictions rested much more lightly 
upon me. 

The ride to Springfield was not so dreary Springfield 
as I had anticipated. The Connecticut 
valley has every right to its fame for scenic 
beauty, and I think the tobacco, which 
spreads out from Hartford in a vast sea of 
solace, growing green and golden and waving 
gently in every breeze, had a soothing effect 
upon my over-wrought nerves. 
29 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

At Springfield I went, as was my custom 
now, to the hotel registers. They were dead 
men, for dead men tell no tales. Blank, all 
blank. Springfield is not a place of exceed- 
ing interest to the stranger under any cir- 
cumstances, and under mine it was posi- 
tively distressing in its lack of attractions. 
But night w^as falling and there was nothing 
for me except to be brave and suffer. I tele- 
graphed my sister for possible information. 
There was a little comfort in expecting some- 
thing and I expected an answer during the 
evening. It came next morning, a night 
message — half rates. Why is a woman so 
economical at such a moment — and read as 
follows: "They have no friends in Spring- 
field." I promptly wired back: "Neither 
have I," and went to breakfast. 

I had to talk to somebody, or explode, and 
I talked to the waiter. I told him with a 
vague indefiniteness of the difficulties which 
beset my path. 

"I guess they went on to Holyoke," he 
said. 

"Where's Holyoke.^" I inquired, pluck- 
ing up courage once more. 

"It's where they go to get up on Mt. Tom. 

30 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




Tobacco Field and Barns in the Connecticut Valley 

Trolleyers that come here always go to Mt. 
Tom if they know their business. It's a fine 
view from there and there's picnic grounds 
and a park for the people all around here. 
I've been there many a time." 

"How far is it .^" 

"About fifteen miles or so. You go to 
Holyoke and take the Mt. Tom car there." 

"Any hotels in Holyoke where people 
could stop over night .^" 

"Oh, yes, sir," looking rather surprised 
at my ignorance. "Holyoke is a big city." 

I tipped him fifty cents, about five times 
the normal tip for the town, I fancy, on a 

31 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

Holyoke fifty cent breakfast, anyhow, and caught the 
first car for Holyoke. I found their names 
on a register and wanted to throttle myself 
for not studying my Trolley Guide. But 
what I wanted to find wasn't in any Trolley 
Guide and I never thought of dry details. 
The hotel clerk told me they were going to 
look at the great Holyoke Dam — I had a 
supply of greater ones that I had been draw- 
ing on ever since I had reached New Haven 
the second time — and from there to the 
mountain. I had no use for the Holyoke 
brand of dam and went straight for the sum- 
mit of Mt. Tom. It was nearly eleven 
o'clock when I reached there, after a pleas- 
ant suburban ride and an ascent by inclined 
railway which is a novelty to persons accus- 
tomed to railways on the level. As a moun- 
tain, Tom is scarcely of the Himalaya class, 
but for those living where mental elevation, 
rather than physical, is of the first importance, 
it answers quite well, and its summit affords 
a panorama worth going to see. But I was 
not looking for panoramic effects. 

Mt. Tom On the top floor of the Casino, a white 
structure one sees for miles before coming 
to it from any direction in the valley, I found 

32 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




x\long the River Ware 

a party of five people — two men and three 
women, one woman younger than the others 
and her dress was not blue. She had a cam- 
era, but her gown was a dark green. She 
did n't look exactly like the girl in blue I had 
seen so fleetingly at Hartford, but she was 
pretty, and I felt drawn to her by some 
mysterious spell. At least, I thought I did, 
but I was scarcely responsible. Girls have 
more than one dress and Clara had money 
enough to have a dark green traveling dress 
if she wanted one. Whether the wearing 
of a blue dress one day and a green one an- 
other would strain the relations between 

33 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

complexion and becoming colors was not 
considered. I had something else to think 
about. 

I must see who composed the part) . I 
suppose I might have approached the men 
first. PossibU' that would have been the 
correct method, but I was romantic rather 
than rigorous of rule. I wanted to surprise 
Clara who thought, if she thought of me at 
all, that I was three thousand miles awav. 
Moving about to get the full sweep of the 
magnificent prospect spread out on all sides, 
she came presently to a telescope in one 
corner. She had some difficulty in adjust- 
ing it and I chose that as the psychologic 
moment. I offered my services which w^ere 
gracefully accepted, and having fixed the 
focus to her eyes — they were beautifully 
brown, and I did not recall just then whether 
Clara's eyes were brown or blue — I essayed 
to speak on other matters than telescopic. 

''I beg your pardon," I said restraining 
my impetuosity, "are you Miss Willis.'" 

''Why, yes," she replied, startled out of 
the conventionalities, ''how did you know.^" 

"Thank Heaven," I exclaimed, ignoring 
her inquir\', and extending mv hand which 

34 



A Trollfx Trip jr^jfti Manhattan t^j Maine 




Amona tlif Hill~ of \V;irf 



she took as anv ladv would have done in a 
similar situation. ''Thank Heaven, I have 
found vou at last. I am Ned Wells of New 
^'ork; Mrs. Winston's brother, you know, 
just back from Europe, une.xpectedlv. She 
told me \ou had gone off on this trolle\' trip 
and I set out after vou at once. I've had 
the — ' 

She let go of mv hand, which I had ne- 
glected to do with hers during this outburst 
of pent-up feeling, and looked around to 
see if her friends were near. 

"I am Miss Willis," she said, smiling 
because she could n't help seeing mv sin- 

35 




Savings Bank, Leicester 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

cerity, "but I don't know any Mrs. Winston 
of New York, and I have only trolleyed up 
from Springfield with friends I am visiting 
there. I — " 

"Aren't you Miss Clara Willis.?" I 
choked. 

"No, I'm Miss Louise Willis and I live 
in Boston. I am very sorry." 

Whether she was sorry she lived in Boston, 
or was sorry for me, I did not differentiate. 
I was too grateful for an expression of any 
sort of sympathy to be hypercritical and 
what I might have said I do not know, but 
I was interrupted by a young man who 
rushed up almost menacingly, I thought. 

She was laughing now, and very quickly 
told him my story and introduced me. The 
others joined us, and while my disappoint- 
ment was keen, it was dulled somewhat by 
the acquaintance of these charming people, 
notwithstanding this unlooked-for Miss Wil- 
lis was to marry the young man who had so 
unceremoniously broken in upon the ex- 
pression of my gratitude. But I could not 
wait at Mt. Tom. My people had been 
there and gone. They had left, a Casino 
attendant told me, half an hour before my 

37 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

arrival. I must have passed them coming 
dov^n the incHne as I w^ent up. So near and 
yet so far. 
Springfield I hurried back to Springfield. They had 
lunched there and w^ere going on at once, the 
clerk at the hotel told me. I asked the man 
who had w^aited on me at breakfast if he had 
seen them. He said he had n't noticed. 
One word to them from him and all v^ould 
have been w^ell. I w^anted to knock him 
down and take that fifty cent tip away from 
him. But such action would have added to 
the complications already existing, and I 
withheld the hand of justice. 

"Where would they probably stop for the 
night .^'' I inquired of the clerk much as if 
I were asking a sailor-man where in the 
broad Atlantic I might pick up a minnow. 

"Well," he replied, in the calculating way 
of a born Yankee, "Worcester is a good 
place, but as they are just moving along for 
pleasure, they might get off most anywhere 
when night came. Leicester, six miles this 
side of Worcester, is the best stopping-place 
I know of." 

My mind had been at such a tension that 
I had forgotten my sister had told me Mr. 

38 



A Trolley Trip fro?n Manhattan to Ma 



me 




Hard Farming in Massachusetts 

and Mrs. Loring lived at Leicester, and 
the others would stop with them for a day or 
two, possibly, and only three constitute the 
party through to Maine. This was more 
cheering than no news at all, and I went 
forth again, alone. I did n't like the com- 
pany I was in, but it was not my fault. 
Heaven knows I was trying to get other 
companionship. 

Taking a high-ball and a car marked Palmer 
"Palmer" at very nearly the same point, I 
went out of Springfield, City of Dismal 
Defeat, along the old Boston Road and came 
betimes to Palmer. The chief attractions 

39 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

here are Forest Lake and Park, but they 
are not attractive to trolley ers of my kind, 
because they fill the cars with short riders 
who are not as considerate of the comfort 
of through passengers as they might be. 

A large fat girl who had squeezed in beside 
me, and half of whose weight I carried for 
two or three miles, apologized. 

"Don't mention it," I said, assuming a 
cheerful manner. "I have other troubles 
and this takes my mind off of them. It 's 
a pleasure, and you mav sit in my lap if you 
want to." 

She shrieked with laughter as though it 
wxre a great joke. If it were, most of the 
joke was on me. 
Ware Portions of the country along this route 
were quite in consonance with the barrenness 
of my search, and nearly as dismal toiook at 
as I felt, but by the river Ware and among 
its hills, delightful vistas opened and there 
were wide expanses of view whose beauty 
compelled forgetfulness of earthly cares. 
These were of the earth, and surely man, 
who owned the earth, must find some joy 
in them. I did, but not as I should have 
done with some congenial, responsive spirit 
40 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




Colonial House in Leicester 

to have shared them with me. Ware, Wicka- wickaboag 
boag and West Brookfield slipped by me; ^^g^ 
Spencer, City of Shoes and Hills, and then Brookfield 
Leicester and — and — Clara. At last. Spencer 

I took my traps to the hotel, and had a 
high-ball, a bath and dinner, each fulfilling 
its mission admirably. I was feeling better. 
It was now eight o'clock, and lighting a 
cigar, I strolled serenely through the tranquil Leicester 
streets of the restful old town. After a voy- 
age of stress and struggle I had reached 
a happy haven. My cigar was a beacon of 
peace glowing before me. Sure of finding 
the objects of my search on the Loring 

41 ^ 




Congregational Church, Leicester, Mass. 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

piazza in the fading Massachusetts twihght, 
I smoked my cigar out and turned thither. 
But I was chilled at the gate. There was 
the piazza, but it was tenantless, and only 
a faint light showed over the old fashioned 
transom of the front door. I went into the 
shadow that had fallen upon me and lifted 
the heavy brass knocker. It fell with a sound 
that echoed through the lonelv hall, dis- 
turbing ghosts and cobwebs of bv-gone 
years. It was very hollow and forbidding. 
I half expected a disembodied spirit to meet 
me. But a maid of flesh and blood appeared, 
and in response to my eager inquiry she 
informed me that the party had been there, 
but had gone on, the Lorings having changed 
their minds — there were three women to 
two men in the party — and concluded to 
continue the trip. 

"But where have they gone.^" I fairly 
yelled at her. 

"I don't know, sir.?'' she replied, shrink- 
ing apprehensively behind the door which 
she held open. "They said thev were trol- 
leying and were going to Boston, but trollev- 
ers never knew what might happen to their 
plans and they said they did n't care, sir." 

43 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

"What time were they here?" I asked 
with a mental condemnation of such reck- 
lessness. 

"-About three o'clock." 

It was now eight and I was five hours 
away from them to only half an hour at Mt. 
Tom. It was maddening. At this rate the 
separation was likely to become permanent. 

"Could they get to Boston to-night.^" I 
asked. 

"Yes, sir, if they took the Express from 
Worcester. But I don't think they will do 
that, sir," she began explaining as her wits 
gathered after my first routing of them. 
"They said something about going to Con- 
cord." 

"What's Concord.^" I asked without due 
consideration, because I really had heard of 
Concord, Massachusetts, when I was at 
school, or some place. 

"Oh, don't vou know Concord, sir.^" she 
cried. 

"No, I don't. All I know on this con- 
founded trip is discord," I said, disturbed 
beyond control, and she looked at me m 
such complete noncomprehension of my con- 
dition that I turned my back on her and 

44 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




City Hall Park, Worcester 

departed in the sulks. There is a limit to 
human endurance. 

As I had strolled towards the Lorings' 
through the gloaming, my cigar had tasted 
good and Leicester was a dream. Now 
walking back to the hotel, the dream had 
degenerated into a nightmare. I Ht a fresh 
cigar. Bah. It was vile. Simply a bunch 
of Massachusetts cabbage in a Connecticut 
wrapper. I recalled those vast tobacco 
fields about Hartford with horror at the 
thought of what millions of unfortunate 
smokers must suffer. I threw the cigar 
down and crushed it under my foot. I did 

45 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

not want an\- boy in Leicester to find so large 
a stub. 

Departure that night was useless. I was 
so near Worcester that an early morning 
car would get me there and on to Concord 
quite as soon if I remained where I was, so 
I remained. Before going to bed I tele- 
graphed my sister: "All is lost save trolley 
fare." Which I thought rather a neat way 
of expressing my determination to keep at it. 

I awoke next morning as from a night of 
Welsh rabbit revelry and went to breakfast 
without appetite. Breakfast was merely a 
morning custom and I went to it from force 
of habit. But it was a good breakfast and 
trolleying gives one an appetite despite de- 
pressing emotional conditions. My cigar 
tasted differently, too, in the air of a new 
morning. If the Worcester car had not 
come along just when it did, I think I should 
have gone around and apologized to the 
Lorings' maid. 
Worcester The ride to Worcester through pretty 
scenes of hill and dale waking to the clear, 
cool air of the dawn, was encouraging, and 
I reached the Public Square in the city, quite 
a changed being. I feared to go to Concord 

46 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Mai 



ne 



on the small margin I had and for a time 
I drifted about the Square, vaguely hoping 
that thev had passed the night in town and 
I might find them and be led into the right 
wav. I sat on a bench in the Park adjoining 
the fine Citv Hall to think more at my ease. 
Worcester is a city of colleges and schools 
and academies and institutions of all kinds 
ot learnrng, but all of them combined could 
not teach me the one small bit of knowledge I 
sought. Had they gone to Boston or to 
Concord r That was the question, and 
Hamlet's immortal "To be or not to be" 
paled into the significance of a silly conun- 
drum by comparison. 

As out of a misty unreality I heard voices, 
and for the first time perceived that on the 
bench adjoining mine sat five people — tw^o 
men and three women, one of them younger 
than the others. She wore a blue dress and 
carried a camera. Could these be those I 
sought } The young woman was not as 
pretty as I imagined Clara was, but she was 
of correct appearance and bearing, and I 
knew she would not be sitting on a park 
bench unless she were a stranger, as I was. 
Park benches are not fashionable country 

47 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

seats, so to say. I experienced a slight 
qualm of disappointment that the girl was 
not prettier, but on second thought I remem- 
bered that beauty of person was not always 
the most useful of feminine attributes. 

I listened a moment to their talk. It was 
about going to Boston by trolley express. 
I became visibly interested at once. They 
were discussing whether to go by trolley or 
steam. This was not in accordance with 
the plan of my party and I wondered if any- 
thing had happened. There was only one 
way for me to settle the doubt. I rose to go 
to them and inquire in person. As I did so 
one of the older women said to the girl in 
blue: 

"Well, Grace, you telegraph to your hus- 
band that we will be at his hotel for dinner. 
How we shall get there we can decide later.*' 
That settled it for me. I did n't know 
what Clara looked like, but I did know her 
name was n't Grace and that she did n't 
have a husband in Boston. 
Northboro A car came by for Northboro and on the 

Marlboro spur of this latest disappointment I picked, 
Hudson up my traps and took it. Through North- 

Maynard boro, Marlboro, Hudson, Maynard and the 

48 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to M 



aine 




The Bridge at Concord 

lands between, filled with elm trees and his- 
tory, I went, careless of all save Concord, 
which might mean much or little. It was 
a long ride of fifty-eight miles and I reached Concord 
the famous old town somewhat weary and 
with a longing for those I sought. I thought 
they might have gone to the hotel to lunch, 
if they had come there at all, but there was 
nothing satisfying on the register when I 
scanned its impartial pages. What did it 
care for me or mine .? I closed it with a 
vindictive snap and w^ent out to scour the 
tow^n. There was no sign until I came into 
Sleepy Hollow Cemetery where Emerson, 

49 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

Hawthorne, Thoreau, Louisa M. Alcott and 
others rest peacefully under the ministering 
trees. I sat down among the graves, feeling 
that here I should cease my wanderings and 
lay my burden aside. 

Sitting there in pensive contemplation of 
the final end of man, I became aware of the 
presence of live people — two men and three 
women, one of them younger than the others 
and wearing a blue dress. She was studv- 
ing an inscription on a tomb and I could not 
see her face. Instantly I was out of my 
revery and on my feet. Cemeteries might 
have their purpose, but it was not mine. I 
should see who these five were. I ap- 
proached the girl as near as I dared, the 
others being engaged at a little distance. 
They were all visitors as I was, for I saw a 
Guide Book sticking out of one of the men's 
pocket. Natives have no use for Guide 
Books except to sell them. His Guide was 
like mine. Evidently he was on the same 
route. I had found my people. 

I foregathered for the final advance, a 
little timidly, perhaps, because frequent de- 
feat had cooled my blood, but as I was 
moving in her direction, three other persons 

50 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




Where the Trolley takes to the Woods 

joined the five and the party of eight went on 
ahead of me. A young man, who seemed 
to have some rights that were bound to be 
respected, assumed escort of the girl in blue. 
I followed, but with no definite purpose. I 
was not looking for a company of eight. 
They stopped presently to study another 
inscription and I heard one of the women 
sa\' to the girl and the man: 

'*Oh, but you two are the spooniest 
ever." 

"Why shouldn't we be.?" retorted the 
man pertly. "Bridal couples have that priv- 
ilege, have n't they V 

51 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

** Yes," said another of the older women, 
"for they get over it soon enough." 

Whereupon all of them laughed, from 
which I inferred they were all married, and 
I turned sadly away with my curiosity satis- 
fied. But they were not to be avoided so 
easily, and it was only by eflFort on my part 
that our paths did not cross several times. 
They were having such a good time, in con- 
trast with what I was having, that, almost 
hating them, I hurried away to get a car and 
escape. 

Whether to go to Boston from Concord 
was a perplexing problem, which I decided 
finally by a cast of the die. Heads, Maine; 
tails, Boston. The fateful penny gleamed 
in the air a moment and rang upon the hard 
street. It said Maine, and I departed in 
the direction of Newburyport which the 
Lowell Guide told me I could reach by evening. 

The ride through Lowell, the Cotton City 
Lawrence where the spindles spin, and Lawrence, the 
city without a past among all those that are 
historic — for Lawrence is but Httle more 
than a half century old — and thence along 
the picturesque banks of the Merrimac by 
Whittier's country interested me, and my 

52 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to M 



aine 




Down the Merrimac, from Lowell, Mass. 

camera frequently took my thoughts from Byfield 
the sad vicissitudes of things. Would they 
ever end ? They would have to. The trolley W. New 
did not go on forever and when that ended ^^^ 
I would stop, and stay and stay, till I had 
succeeded in this quest of the ever elusive star. 
Newburyport was not inspiring. It was 
a place to eat and sleep and pursue hotel 
registers. I cared little that I got out of 
the car near where once lived " Goody Morse," 
the witch; and what was it to me if here had 
lived that fooKsh Timothy Dexter, who sent 
warming pans to the West Indies, but whose 
Yankee luck turned his folly into fortune 

53 



Newbury- 
port 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

when the natives used the Hds for strainers, 
and the pans for sugar scoops ? 

If only I could have a bit of Dexter's luck 
in a venture of love. But love is so different 
from money. 

After I had made the round of hotel regis- 
ers in vain, I ate supper and went out to 
walk and smoke and think — mayhaps, to 
sw^ear. It was nearly ten o'clock when I 
came back into the main thoroughfare of 
the town from my uneventful stroll, and I 
was thinking, Heaven knows why, of silly 
young married couples in general and that 
one at Concord in particular, when I came 
unexpectedly upon the very two of my 
thoughts. They were without their friends 
and only a few steps in advance of me. I 
followed simply to listen to them and be 
disgusted with young love in the concrete. 
I might be an eavesdropper, but I had be- 
come so desperate that I was equal to anything. 
There were not many people on the street, 
but enough to make my presence unnoticed. 
I came quite close, but the silly youth was 
not conducting himself as he had been doing 
at Concord. On the contrary, he was talk- 
ing very quietly, very earnestly, very seriously, 

" 54 



A TroUe\ Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




A Passing Glimpse of Paradise 

and the girl was listening. It was provoking 
that I could not hear without getting intru- 
sively near, but I could not, and I increased 
my pace. Still I could not hear, and much 
annoyed, I determined to pass and be done 
with them. As I walked by I heard the 
girl say: 

"Yes, I know; I know. But I can't 
marry you. I don't love you and — " 

This was altogether too sacred a subject 
for a stranger to hear discussed and even 
my desperation would not permit it. I hur- 
ried on feeling very sorry for the poor fellow 
whoever he was. I understood perfectly 

55 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

why they were discussing it on the street. 
He had proposed to her elsewhere on their 
journey when the opportunity offered and 
had been refused. He had seized the chance 
of this evening walk and was arguing for 
himself as men argue who have lost beyond 
hope of regaining. I hoped I should never 
have such an experience, and I wondered 
who the girl was. I glanced back over my 
shoulder to see her, but they had turned and 
were going in the other direction. I fol- 
lowed and saw them enter a hotel. 

She might have been Clara, now that I 
knew she was not a silly young bride, but 
she could not be, because I had already 
looked over that same hotel register twice 
and her name was not there. 

The Httle episode of the street — almost 
a tragedy I could feel that it was to the man 
— gave me food for thought the remainder 
of the evening, and I went to bed knowing 
there was one man in the world to whose 
I disappointment my own was but a comedy. 
I was seeking with hope to find a lost one; 
he had found, and lost beyond hope. 

I dreamed that night of two men seeking a 
pearl on the shore of the sea. The beach 

56 



A T r'dley Trip from Manhattan to M 



ama 




A Yankee Home of Other Days 

glimmered in the sun, a white crescent be- 
tween the green of the land and the green 
of the water. Presently something shone in 
the sand and each ran forward, falling upon 
what he saw and clutching at it eagerly. 
They arose smiling, their hands half filled 
with the sand they cared nothing for, and 
that lay all about them. But they held 
more. In one gleamed only a bit of shell, 
and the smile died on that man's face. In 
the other glistened the pearl and the man 
laughed joyously as though what were his 
were joy for all the world and there could be 
no bitterness. 

57 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

The next morning as I wandered about 
the town wishing the wish that wishing had 
not won, and uncertain whither to turn in 
my search for the unfindable, I saw the young 
man of the night before hurrying down a 
street leading to the railway station. It was 
the hour for the Boston train and I wondered 
if all the brains of that intellectual center 
could devise for him any substitute for what 
he had lost in Newburyport. 

Half an hour later I stopped in a store 
to buy some films for my camera. Two 
ladies were there on the same mission. 
Women did not interest me and I passed 
by them, heedless. They were leaving and 
as they went out one said, a Httle petulantly: 

"But I thought you wanted to stay here 
for the day.?" 

"I thought I should like to," replied the 
other, "but there is not much to interest us 
beyond what we have already seen this 
morning. Let's go up the shore somewhere. 
I don't like Newburyport." 

"Maybe it is because your true love has 
departed," laughed the first one. 

I looked after them going out of the door. 

It was the girl of the night before with 

58 



A Trolley Trip froffi Manhattan to Maine 




A New Hampshire Farmhouse and Grove 

one of the women of her party. 

'*It would have been worse if he had 
stayed," she said. 

The older woman laughed again. She did 
not know what I knew. The younger was 
silent, and I should have liked to see her 
face, but it was not possible. My sympa- 
thies were with the young man I had seen 
going to the train, and I did not care what 
became of the cause of his going. 

At eleven o'clock, having discovered noth- 
ing to cheer me, I decided to go on to Ports- 
mouth. Connecticut and Massachusetts had 
been painfully barren of agreeable results 

59 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

and possibly New Hampshire might be kind. 
My weary search was ending, for the trolley 
line was ending. Beyond Portsmouth, at 
her very gates, with only the narrow Piscata- 
quis between, was Maine. By two o'clock 
I should be at Portsmouth; by half-past 
three at York Beach, on the Maine coast, 
and there was the end. Looking backward 
to New York the journey was bitterness long 
drawn out; the time Hke years. Between 
London and New York seemed but a span 
of an hour; between Newburyport and New 
York was a stretch of infinity. I paused 
before a window mirror to see if my hair 
had grayed. Looking forward, I pulled my- 
self together once more and went to my 
hotel for what I carried from place to place. 
On the way to the car I stopped at the 
hotel where I had seen the young couple of 
the night before. I confess to a kindly and 
commendable curiosity to know^ the name 
of the young man. As I glanced hastily 
over the register, standing at the counter 
with my bag in my hand, I gasped suddenly 
and dropped the bag to the floor. The 
clerk jumped as if the ceiling had fallen and 
the rest of the house were coming after. 
60 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to M 



ante 



ham. 



% 



Boar's Head Promontory 



'' Wh — wh — when, when did these people 
come here?" I stammered at him with my 
finger pointing at the helpless page before 
me. ** They were not here last night when 
I called twice to inquire." 

"No, sir," answered the clerk, soothingly 
"they came in about nine o'clock." 

"Where are they now .^" 

"I don't know\ They paid their bill and 
left tw^o hours ago." 

That was about the time I had seen the 

two women in the store. One of them was 

Clara. The man in the case was Dean. 

There was his name on the register. There 

6i 



The Trolley Car ami the Lady 

Salisbury were all their names. But how did he ever 
find them ? Why could n't I find them ? 
Fate was unkind to me. But did I want to 
find her as he had found her .^ Better 
never find than only find to lose. I would 
wait. I became calm. 

''Did they say where they were going.?" 
I inquired, quite unruflfled, now. 

"No, sir. They said they were troUeying 
and asked me how to get to Hampton Beach." 

"Is that in the direction of Maine or 
Boston .?" 

He laughed and I frowned. How should 
I know the geography of a neighborhood 
so far from New York .? 

"It 's down Maine way," he said, and 
with scant thanks I departed in haste. 

I ran for the trolley and caught a car just 
starting northward. I went to Hampton. 
It seemed to me that all the hotels on earth 
were strung along that shining shore of hard 
white sand. They had not registered any- 
where. They were not on the beach. They 
might have been buried in the sea. I asked 
a fisherman on the rocks of Boar's Head if 
he would drag for a party of my friends. 
He looked at me as if I were crazy. I was. 
62 



A Trollex Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

An hour at Hampton and I hurried on Hampton 
to Portsmouth. It is a pretty ride by the 
sea almost near enough for the salt spray to 
splash the car, with a flat spread of marshy 
meadows to the trees on the land side. I 
remember that, and I remember the invigor- 
ating smell of the salt, and the cooling wind 
from the waves that fanned my feverish 
anxiety to repose. 

I asked the conductor if he had seen a 
party of live persons going towards Ports- 
mouth that morning. 

"Girl in a blue dress .^" he queried back. 

"Yes, yes," I answered so eagerly that he 
smiled. He was old enough to be my father. 

"That ain't five exactly," he laughed in 
a quizzical, kindly fashion. 

I realized the logic of it and laughed with 
him. 

"I guess you understand," I said, leaning, 
so to speak, on his forbearance and sympathy. 

"Yes, I've been through it," he assured 
me. 

But not what I was going through, I am 
sure. However, he told me he had seen the 
party in a car going up as he came down, 
and I knew I should find rest at Portsmouth. 

63 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

Portsmouth Already in the distance I could see its shining 
spires pointing heavenward. 

Portsmouth is a charming old town of 
delightful places and people, and is famous 
for the perfection of its lobsters. 

My good friend, the conductor, suggested 
that I try a "broiled live" as a bracer, im- 
mediately on arrival. I agreed, and in the 
fullness of my gratitude pressed him to join 
me. His duties prevented acceptance, but 
he showed me where to get the best. As I 
went in at the front door a party of people, 
whom I did not see, went out of a side door 
laughing joyously. I hoped after I had 
lobstered I could laugh as happily. 

But it was not to be. While waiting for 
the feast I went to the cashier to inquire the 
names and location of hotels to expedite my 
search when I should begin it. She was 
pleasant and pretty and I was glad to be in 
Portsmouth. Incidentally, merely to make 
talk, I asked her if she had seen a party of 
five people — two men and three women, 
the youngest woman in a blue dress. She 
said that was the party who had gone out 
as I came in. They were going down to 
the ferry. I forgot the lobster instantly. 

64 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to M 



aine 




Looking into Maine from Portsmouth, N. H. 



"Where's the ferry?" I shouted at her, 
making a rush and a grab for my traps. 

"Well, you need n't scare me to death," 
she said, almost falling off of her high stool. 

"But I want to know where the ferry is .^" 
I insisted. 

"Who's going to pay for the lobster you 
ordered.^" she asked cruelly, and I had 
thought she was pretty and pleasant only a 
moment before. 

I dashed a dollar at her. She smiled. 

"Right dow^n this side street," she said. 
"It runs every half hour and maybe you can 
catch it." 

65 



The Trolley Car aj7(I the Lady 

I flew through the side door and down the 
side street. The boat was in midstream 
when I reached the ferry-house. I saw a 
group of live on the after deck — two men, 
and three women, the youngest woman in a 
blue dress. She was taking a photograph 
of the picturesque old houses which consti- 
tute the water-front of Portsmouth. To hire 
a boat to catch them was not possible, and I 
slowly went back to my lobster. The cash- 
ier gave me half a dollar change and tried 
to be sympathetic. I scorned her sympathy 
and returned to the ferry. The boat was 
waiting. If it had only waited on the pre- 
vious trip. 

The car was ready on the farther shore 
when I arrived and I took my place for the 
last lap of this most exasperating race. The 
sense of absolute hopelessness had departed, 
but I was so sore over missing the ferry-boat 
that I wanted to choke the idiotic old con- 
ductor who had suggested lobsters to me. 
Why did n't he tell me about the ferry first ^ 
If I knew his number I would report him. 
He was a lobster himself. 
Kittery But one, even in tribulation, must recog- 
nize the beauty of the waters and shores 
66 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Ma 



ine 




Stranded. Near Kittery, Me. 



about Portsmouth and Kittery, and as we 
trolleyed along the rough and rocky coast, 
bordered with the silver of the dashing sea 
against the pine-clad land, I yielded to the 
gentler influences of nature and found some 
solace in the scenes around me. We slipped The 
by York Corner, York V^illage, York Harbor Yorks 
— truly these old Yorks should mean some- 
thing to a New Yorker — and then came 
the last three miles that should end my 
wanderings at York Beach. The car dragged 
here and I thought the power had weakened. 
But no one else noticed it and I did not 
mention the matter to the conductor. I 

67 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

could wait. I had waited. 

At last we stopped and everybody, except 
myself, got out. 

"Is this the end V I asked the conductor. 

"Well," he replied in a grudging tone, 
"you can go on up to the woods about a 
quarter of a mile further, if you want to.'* 

I wanted to and I went. I had missed 
York Beach my people too often on narrow margins to 
allow a quarter of a mile to come between 
me and a possibility at the finish. The 
tracks stopped abruptly at the road side- 
There was not even a stake for a buffer. A 
lonely house stood in a clearing across the 
way. I ran over to it and asked if a party 
of five people, two men and three women, 
the youngest woman wearing a blue dress, 
had been seen anywhere around there that 
day. I was answered in the negative. I 
told the conductor to leave me. I watched 
his car depart. I stood at the very end of 
the track in the wilderness. Three hun- 
dred and sixty-five miles to New York and 
the girl of my search and my soul somewhere 
on the steel rails spanning the distance. But 
where .? I 'd find her if I had to walk back. 
I started to walk. At the Beach I felt like 
68 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 



iiidii 




fe':"!''''««'r^»i»i«ffci.-^, 



Old House, Kittery, Me. Built 1798 

a high-ball. I went into a hotel and asked 
for the bar. The clerk looked at me suspi- 
ciously. Could he see what others had 
seen ? 

"We have no bar," he said with a great 
sadness. 

*'A Summer hotel and no bar.^" I ex- 
claimed. "Where do you get your high- 
balls.?" 

"Nowhere in Maine," he said, more sadly 
than before. 

Then it dawned upon me that I was in 
a state where high-balls were unconstitu- 
tional, and I felt sick at heart. Could I 

69 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

stand the strain unsupported ? Heaven only 
knew. I intended to remain at York Beach 
indefinitely. She would come there some 
day, — some day, — and when she did, she 
would find me constant to one girl ever. 
But I needed help. The clerk winked and 
I knew the constitution of the state of Maine 
might be suspended temporarily. I felt 
better. 

Leaving my traps at the hotel where there 
was no bar, I sallied forth on my search. 
They were at none of the hotels. For an 
hour I paced the beach. Nothing answer- 
ing their description could be found. The 
sun went down on my wrath. I dined in 
solitude and smoked away the evening, list- 
less and lonely by the sad and sounding sea. 
My pain was pathos and poetry. 

I slept uneasily and made a round next 
morning of all the hotel registers. It was 
a dreary, doleful, disappointing morning. It 
was something that would have driven a man 
to drink anywhere else than in Maine. The 
constitution prevented it here. I was be- 
coming desperate again. During the tire- 
some afternoon I was down on the beach 
seeking divertisement with my camera when 

10 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

I saw a pretty girl in white and blue fluffy 
things. At the moment, she was alone. 
Whether she was permanently unattended 
I could not determine, and waited to see. 
For half an hour she wandered about snap- 
ping pictures, now and then, with a small 
camera. My interest was unabated, but not 
obtrusive. She started, after awhile, across 
the sand towards the point where the trolleys 
stopped, and I deferentially fell in behind. 
I had caught her eye once or twice, furtively, 
but no more than was permissible to any 
passing stranger. I followed her slowly, but 
persistently. If I could n't find the girl I 
was looking for, I did n't intend to lose the 
one I had found if I could prevent the loss. 
There was an old plank walk part of the way 
and here a loose board tripped her, and she 
fell on the soft sand. Fortunately the twist 
to her ankle was slight, and when I had 
helped her to her feet and gathered up her 
camera and parasol, I found that the only 
injury sustained had been to her vanity. 
She thanked me for coming to her rescue, 
and very graciously permitted me to escort 
her to the car. There was not much more 
to be said because we were not fifty feet from 

71 




A Maine Blacksmith Shop in the Shade of the Church 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

the car, and it was ready to go when we 
reached it. I could only tell her that I 
sincerely hoped when she came again the 
loose planks would be more considerate. 
But would she come again ? I wanted to 
ask her, yet did not dare. 

When she had gone, York Beach was 
drearier than ever, and still I could not desert 
my post of love and duty. I telegraphed 
my sister, but her replies were unsatisfac- 
tory and "collect." This was also dis- 
quieting. 

But the new girl might come back again, 
despite her misadventure. I went over to 
York Harbor exploring, but she was invisible. 
That evening I haunted the spot where the 
trolleys stopped, but no vision of fluff and 
finicks gladdened my eyes. I slept sweetly 
that night. I needed rest. I did n't dream 
of Clara, either. 

Next morning I did not call on all the 
hotel registers. Only the one at my own 
place. I smoked my cigar and loafed in 
the shade of the piazza from where I could 
see the trolley cars come in. Later I walked 
on the beach, and suddenly, when I least 
expected it, — the fluffy girl. My face must 

73 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

have told her something pleasant, for she 
smiled as she saw me, and I went to her 
with my hand extended as to an old friend. 
The Summer time softens the asperities of 
ordinary social usage. 

*'I hope,^' I said, when our good mornings 
had been spoken, "that your injuries were 
not severe ?" 

"Thank you, no," she laughed. "Ex- 
cept to my vanity. You know one never 
falls very gracefully when she is n't expecting 
to. 

"I really didn't observe whether it w^as 
done gracefully or not," I comforted her. 
"It was, at least, done sincerely." 

"Sincerely expresses it exactly," she 
laughed, "and quite originally. I'm glad 
you think it was sincere, because, you know" 
— she hesitated a little — "I was so awfully 
lonesome wandering around on the beach, 
and — and you were, that I would have 
done almost anything to have destroyed the 
monotony." 

Here was a Summer girl flirt of the very 
type I had read about and seen pictures of 
ever since that modern fairy had been in- 
vented. I had opinions on those matters, 

74 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




Old Fort and Citadel at Kittery, Me. 

but I was not asked to present them. Nor 
would I. I was in the humor for a flirtation, 
come how it may. The horrors of the last 
few days had almost incited a revolution in 
my nature. 

''But you ran away without securing the 
fruits of your victory," I contended. "Two 
minutes from the time of your heroic rescue 
you were on a trolley for York Harbor, and 
your rescuer was left lamenting." 

"You did n't urge me to remain, did you ?" 
she coquetted, deliciously. 

"Well, no, I did not," I apologized, "but 
I thought — " 

75 



Th^ Trolley Car and the Lady 

''So did I/' she interrupted. ''I thought 
so much and so fast that I became nervous 
and had to go back to York Harbor to 
reassure myself." 

''How? What? Wh|?" I, ran in all^ 
together. ' i 

"No matter," she shook her head and 
smiled. "I am here again." 

"Which means that you are reassured?" 

"Yes." 

"Of what? 

"That I was acting quite properly in 
speaking to a strange man." 

"Ah, indeed?" I said somewhat uppish. 
"Have you a book on * Summer Etiquette 
with Hints on the Social Usage of the Sea- 
shore and Mountain Manners'?" 

"If not quite that, something quite as 
authoritative," she replied banteringly. 

Then she badgered me for an hour. It 
was distressing, but delightful. She made 
me tell her all my woes and wanderings of 
the week. Laughed at me; laughed at the 
lost girl; laughed at love and duty, and had 
me well nigh distracted. But I would not 
tell her my name, nor the name of the lost 
girl, nor of the tragedy I had witnessed at 

76 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

Newburyport. That was too sacred a sub- 
ject for this frivolous, fluffy creature to 
desecrate. So eager was she to know of 
me that she had neither time nor incHna- 
tion to tell me of herself. Her name, cer- 
tainly not, and only that she had come with 
friends to York Harbor two days before and 
she had slipped away to York Beach be- 
cause there was a man there whom she did 
not like. 

"Do you like me.^" I asked when she 
told me this. 

" Oh, yes," with childhke frankness. "You 
are comfy and confiding and conventional. 
I love that kind." 

"Then you love me.^" I said feeling a 
faint and far off flutter under my waistcoat, 
in spite of the reason why I was at York 
Beach. 

'''That kind,'" I said," she corrected me. 

"Then it is general, not particular.?" 
yuite so. 

We had been sitting under somebody's 
tent on the beach. She arose and stepped 
out into the open. 

"What is it.?" I asked, following her with 
reluctance because — w^ell, because. 

11 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

**I must be going now. They don't know 
w^here 1 am, and I must n't cause them any 
uneasiness. I am in their charge, you 
now. 

" May I go over on the trolley with you V' 

*'No," this very positively. 

"Why not.^" I insisted. 

"There are good reasons," she said mys- 
terious in manner. How w^omen do love 
mystery. 

"When shall I see you again .^" 

"Do you want to see me again .^" naively. 

"More than anything.^" I averred with 
my hand on my heart. "Why not.^" 

"More than the lost girl.^" 

Aha. This w^as a test question into which 
I had been trapped. This frivolous fluff 
had cornered me for her purpose. 

She was captivating — exquisitely so — but 
what was that to me .^ An ephemeral but- 
terfly tempting me to follow anywhere, every- 
where, only to escape at last. I might be 
ungallant, but I was going to be sensible for 
once. I set my jaws together firmly. She 
was watching me closely. I had my wits 
about me, now. 

"You will pardon me," I replied slowly, 

78- 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




A :Maine Well bv the Trolley Track, Kitterv, Me. 



for it was not an easy thing to do my duty, 
"if I say not more than the lost girl." 

She did not attempt to conceal her dis- 
approval of my answer. 

*'You see," I wxnt on, rather lightly, now 
that the worst was over, "I have seen you 
twice and I have never seen the lost girl at 
all. You should allow^ for a little natural 
curiosity. Especially after w^hat I have gone 
through to see her. If I — " 

"No," she broke in riotously, "no, I 
won't make any allow^ances. You are im- 
polite and unkind. I was coming over this 
afternoon, but you shan't see me again." 

79 . 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

"What time this afternoon?" I asked as 
though I had not heard what else she was 
saying. It's the best way, sometimes. 

"Three o'clock, but I'm not coming. I 
don't want to see you, and I'm going home 
this minute." 

Which was quite true, for we had reached 
the platform while we were talking, and a 
car was starting. I might have gone over 
with her, I suppose, as the trolley is a public 
carrier and I had my rights, but I was not 
making any concessions. A man must be 
firm with women upon occasion. I waved 
my hand to her as the car moved away, but 
she gave no heed. I had done my duty and 
this was my reward. I fancy a woman 
thinks a man's duty is only to herself. 

When she had gone, my firmness departed 
also, and I wondered why I had put the 
pretty ray of sunshine out of the shadow in 
which I had wandered for so long. Or, if I 
had not put it out, as I hoped I had not, 
why had I disturbed its fascinating influence .^ 
I did n't enjoy the shore dinner I turned to 
in my desertedness, and at three o'clock I 
was on the platform waiting impatiently for 
the York Harbor car. Man is, after all, a 
80 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

weak and wobbly creature. She was not on 
the car. Possibly she had really meant what 
she said. They sometimes do. I was a 
brute to have compelled her to it. I would 
go to York Harbor and tell her so. As I 
walked the platform gloomily waiting for 
the next car, a group on the beach attracted 
my attention. 

There were five persons — two men and 
three women, the youngest woman in a blue 
dress with a camera strap across her shoulder. 
I had been looking for such a combination 
until it was seared all over my perceptive 
faculties. Now that I had it where it could 
not escape me did I want to see it ? I must. 
It was my duty. The fluffy girl might be 
on the next car. If I waited for her I might 
lose this opportunity for which I had searched 
so long, and suffered so much. All my 
effort should not be in vain. This might 
not be the fated five. With a torturous 
twist to my feelings that was downright 
cruelty, I tore myself from the platform and 
ran down upon the beach. I could settle 
the doubt quickly and get back to the car. 
I drew near the group. I recognized no 
part of it in person or apparel, as familiar. 
8i 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

The girl wore a blue dress; that was all. 
Thousands of girls wear blue dresses every 
Summer. I thought I heard the rumble of 
the coming car and looked anxiously in the 
direction of York Harbor. Thank heaven, 
the track was clear. This time, out of my 
experience at Mt. Tom, and for other reasons, 
I decided to approach one of the men of 
the party. I stepped up to the nearest and 
called him aside. 

"I beg your pardon," I ventured in a 
tremor of conflicting emotions, ''I don't 
know whether you are Mr. Loring or Mr. 
Gray, or neither the one nor the other, but 
I am Ned Wells of New York, Mrs. Wins- 
ton's brother. Did you ever happen to hear 
of such an individual?" 

He put out both hands in friendly fashion. 
"Well, by Jove, I should say I had," he 
actually whooped. '' We had a letter from 
his sister yesterday telling us what he had 
been doing and calling on us in pity's name 
to find him. I'm Gray." 

"I think I am, too," I murmured, putting 
one hand to my head and offering him the 
other. 

Before I could explain further he rushed 

82 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 




A Little Maine Cottage 

me to the others and told them who I was. 
Introductions were not necessary. It was 
a friendly mix-up and we simply fell on each 
other's necks in the exuberance of our joy. 
All except the girl in blue. She had dropped 
out of the group as I approached Mr. Gray. 

"Here, Clara," they shouted to her, "here 
is what we have been looking for." 

She came towards us, hesitatingly, her 
eyes demurely studying the sand, as was 
meet for a modest maiden. 

"And what I have been looking for," I 
said boldly, advancing to meet her, my hand 
extended. I heard the low rumble of a 

83 



The Trolley Car and the Lady 

distant trolley car. Perhaps it was bearing 
the fluffy girl to me. But I did not care. I 
had found the true object of my heart-break- 
ing search. 

She looked up shyly when she took my 
hand. I tottered on my foundations. She 
was the fluffy girl. I held on convulsively 
and incoherent. The others laughed with- 
out knowing why. There was no First-Aid- 
to-the-Injured appliances handy and they 
had to do something. People always laugh 
at such times. The girl was equal to the 
moment. I was utterly inadequate. 

"Oh," she explained, also laughing a bit 
nervously, "I found him yesterday, but 
was n't sure till I could get another look at 
the photograph Julia gave to Mrs. Loring. 
Reassured, I came back this morning and — 
— and — " 

"We had a violent altercation," I recovered 
suflSciently to put in, " and — and — " 

"And I ran away, and — ," she inter- 
rupted. 

"Came back," I broke in triumphantly. 

The other women here asserted their pre- 
rogatives. 

"You did n't tell us you were over here 

84 



A Trolley Trip from Manhattan to Maine 

this morning," Mrs. Loring pouted at her, 
as though she had been shghted. 

"And that's why you insisted on wearing 
that old blue traveling dress, is n't it ?" Mrs. 
Gray wanted to know. 

All of which called for so much additional 
explanation that I collected my impedimenta 
at the hotel and went with them to York 
Harbor. 

''To open the constitution with," I said 
to the clerk, handing him a cork-screw as I 
departed. 

That evening, quite late, I telegraphed 
some private information to my sister. She 
rephed promptly: "Oh, Ned, I am so glad." The End 



Since the author has taken this trip the 
route has been extended through to Portland, 
Maine, thus making one continuous line from 
New York to Portland. The gap between 
Cheshire and Milldale has also been filled. 



85 



MR. BADGER'S 
NOTABLE NEW FICTION 



THE VEIL 

BY 

MARY HARRIOTT NORRIS 



Miss Norris weaves her story out of the experi- 
ences of the tenants of three '' haunted " houses. 
Davidge house is the largest of these and is a ram- 
bling old colonial mansion. The owner has often 
tried to rent them in vain owing to their reputa- 
tions for ghosts. Suddenly they are taken posses- 
sion of by a woman bereft of her husband, a man 
mentally tired and a man physically tired. At this 
point the mysteries commence. The act'on is so 
rapid that it will make the most indifferent reader 
" sit up " until he has reached the end. 



I2mo, Ornamental Cloth ;^i.5o 



MR. BADGER'S 
NOTABLE NEW FICTION 



IN CHARGE OF THE 
CONSUL 



BY 

ELLA F. PADON 



The story is laid in Germany and relates to the 
doings of five bright American girls, who are there 
in charge of the American consul. These girls are 
American in every way and they refuse to give way 
to the traditions and manners of Germany, but 
continue to live their lives in most democratic ways. 
There are several love affairs in the story, one of 
them being one in the nobility, which the girls are 
most interested in. Another love affair is that of a 
certain young baron for one of the American girls. 
The story is charmingly written and the conversa- 
tional parts are unusually bright. 



l2mo, Ornamental Cloth, ^I,oo. 



MR. BADGER'S 
NOTABLE NEW FICTION 



KEDAR KROSS 

A Tale of the North Country 

BY 

J. VAN DERVEER SHURTS 



A story fresh out of the north woods is Kedar 
Kross. Mr. Van Derveer Shurts calls it a tale of 
the north country, and the writer has put the scent 
of the mountain pines and the beauty of the upper 
Adirondacks between covers. The book is simple 
and direct in the telling, and the style, the sustained 
interest, and the scene remind you of the Cooper 
novels. Indeed Kedar Kross takes you to the coun- 
try just north of the scene depicted in the Pioneers, 
and it is as full of adventure and mystery as a 
Leather-stocking novel.— Buffalo Express. 



:2mo. Cloth, ;^i.5o 



Strl|ar& (g. Sabgrr - - Inslon 






v 











^°-v 



.0^ 



4^ 



^t^ 
^^u^ 















'^^o^ 


















.^^■?"/H, 






^-^^ 




^*^„ ^^. ^^'^ 






.0' 



^''EE-Q,.>7/>^^- 







■'.■^-" • \ <^<^ 






o"^ 


<^ .'/-^ 


/ 


°« 




.^\_ 










o 



aV-^ 



